Samid AghayevOn Loving
Your Neighbor (1994)O Lyubvi k Blizhnemu (in
Russian)Samid
Aghayev was born in Lankaran near the southern border of Azerbaijan
on August 17, 1957. Since 1978, he has been living in Moscow.
Currently, he is a professor at the Maxim Gorky Literary Institute.

His major publications include two collections of short stories:
"Cadillac for a Younger Brother" (1994) and Dreams
(1997). For his short novel, "Romance of the Unloving",
he was named Laureate of the Katayev Literary Prize (1996).

He also has written a historical novel, "Seventh Perfect"
(2001), for which he won a Moscow prize in the field of literature
(2002).

"On Loving Your Neighbor
as Yourself" describes an episode in the life of a simple
worker, who truly does try to be sensitive to what he perceives
are the economic needs around him, only to discover that he has
been tricked. This story was translated from Russian by Arzu
Aghayeva and edited by Betty Blair.

· ·
·

Art: Vugar Muradov. Visit AZgallery.org
for contacts.

Azim
was sitting on top of a pile of scrap metal, his canvas work
gloves under him. The workers had left for lunch. But since he
had already eaten the cutlets1 that he had brought from home, he looked
out through the open door towards the river with its green water
and reeds, and to the fields beyond, and the peaks of the distant
mountains. It was snowing - as it can snow only in the subtropics.
Huge snowflakes were floating down lazily as if trying to decide
whether they wanted to go back up again or not.

Azim was smoking. Through the puffs of smoke, he could make out
a figure of a man who had entered. He wasn't tall, nor was he
young or shaven. He wore a jacket over his sweater and galoshes
but no overcoat. Azim's attention was drawn to the thick-knitted
socks in which the man had stuffed his cheap striped pants.

Azim stood up and went to the corner where a gas heater was lying
behind some equipment covered with clothes.

"Does it heat well?"

"Very well. You can heat anything on it. A kettle will always
stay hot. You can even cook on it."

"How much is it?"

Azim coughed. Saying the price had always been a problem for
him. In reality, Azim was doing everything just like others did.
He bought the heater pieces from the scrap metal man and made
heaters, which really were not of lesser quality than the other's.

But when it came to saying the price, he would always get embarrassed
and say less than he intended to. His price was 25 rubles; others
sold theirs for 35 but, actually, he had only managed once to
sell it for 25. And then after loading the heater into the trunk
of the client's Zhiguli2, Azim had returned to count the money
only to discover that he had been shortchanged three rubles.

"Twenty-five," he said firmly.

The buyer took a pack of Avrora cigarettes3 out of his pocket and offered one to
Azim. Azim didn't smoke cigarettes that didn't have filters,
but he didn't dare refuse and take out his own cigarettes. He
didn't want to offend the man. He lit the cigarette, tasting
the bitterness on his lips.

"Khan Kishi," said the man, introducing himself. Azim
bent his head ever so slightly so that Khan Kishi would not see
him spitting out small pieces of tobacco that had stuck to his
lips.

"I work close by here," Khan Kishi began, "as
a tractor driver of MTS [Machine Tractor Station]. I drive repaired
tractors in our section. The salary is low. Of course, if I worked
in the field, I would get much better money, though the wages
there have also decreased.

Khan Kishi gently slid his palm over the heater.

"Good thing. I've been thinking of getting a heater for
quite some time. My family is freezing. Does the State provide
any heaters? No. If only I had money, I would buy it immediately.
I wouldn't even bargain.

Azim felt a lump form in his throat. As if sensing it, Khan Kishi
looked at him, sadly: "Yesterday, they promised to pay us
in advance and give us the 13th.4 But they didn't. They said there was
no money in the bank. Otherwise, I would buy it. But I don't
have enough moneyIt's so cold at home; the kids are freezing
and there's no use counting on the State for heating. We hardly
have any gas coming through."

He hung his head.

Azim had paid five rubles for the parts, plus he had to pay three
rubles to the craftsman for covering up that he was doing this
work on the side.

"How much money do you have?" Azim asked.

Khan Kishi searched in his pocket and pulled out two crumpled
five-ruble notes. Azim shook his head and lit up a new cigarette.
Khan Kishi slapped his hip pocket and then searched the inside
pocket of his jacket and produced another five-ruble note: "I
just remembered," he said, "my wife gave me this to
buy sugar. So?"

Azim finished his cigarette, suffering under Khan Kishi's begging
eyes. In frustration, he extinguished the cigarette butt with
his shoe.

"OK, take it," he agreed.

"Can I have the cloth as well?" the tractor driver
asked. Azim gestured resignedly. Khan Kishi carefully wrapped
the long-awaited heater in the cloth and headed out the door.
He was limping a little under the heavy load.

"Seven rubles is also money," Azim rationalized, as
his eyes followed the figure of the man.

· ·
·

"Our man came," announced
the sister.

"He came, my son," said the mother happily, holding
her sewing in her hands.

"Good evening," said Azim. He took off his jacket and
headed to the table. His sister brought a washbasin. With the
jug, she started pouring warm water on his hands. His mom was
looking at them contentedly.

Azim could just as easily have washed his hands with cold water
in the washbasin in the yard. But this was their ritual - woman
taking care of breadwinner. Everybody got a lot of pleasure from
this: the women who were tired of living at home without men,
as well as Azim, who suddenly felt himself a grown man.

Before dinner, Azim would usually take out his earnings and share.
And this also became a small family ritual.

"Not much today," Azim said, "I got a poor client
and took pity on him and sold for a cheap price."

"That's all right," his mom said. "You did right
in the sight of God."

Azim nodded as he started to eat.

· · ·

"What's this you've brought?"

Khan Kishi unwrapped the cloth.

"It's a gas heater, a very good one. The kettle will always
stay warm; you can cook on it."

"Was it expensive?"

"Yeah, they just rip you off. But what to do, I had to pay
35 rubles."

3
Avrora cigarettes are very cheap Soviet cigarettes. Khan Kishi
wanted to show that he was very poor.

4
13th refers to the Soviet period when the government used to
pay something like a bonus, equivalent to a month's salary.

5
People kiss objects as a gesture of respect. For example, they
will pick up a piece of bread that has accidentally fallen on
the floor or ground, often they will place it on their forehead
and kiss it three times. Thus they show their respect to things,
which are considered sacred - especially products made of flour
and sugar.